Adventures in Russia, 1881 by Dr. John Raffensperger & Richard Krevolin

Author:Dr. John Raffensperger & Richard Krevolin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, mystery, crime, british, Doctor Joseph Bell, sir arthur conan doyle
ISBN: 9781787051546
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2017
Published: 2017-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

10 September 1881

The past week has been one of further recuperation, reading, and study shrouded in a constant fear of being arrested. All the while, I have been remiss in making daily entries, so I shall remedy that situation with this update.

I have not left the confines of Sechenov’s house. After my bloody horrific stay in the Peter and Paul Prison, I dream of returning home, sitting in my mother’s kitchen and eating her blissfully good bangers and mash.

So what do I do all day?

Well, I spend my days in the library surrounded by books. At the end of each day, I do sprints and calisthenics within the walled garden to regain strength after my inactivity in prison.

What has made the past week tolerable is my daily Russian language lesson. I enticed a sweet, little kitchen maid named Marya to visit my room each night. She teaches me peasant Russian and cuddles in a most delightful manner. Her grammar is imperfect, but I am learning enough of the language to get by and she corrects my mistakes with a delicate kiss. I eagerly return each kiss and tend to make a few more mistakes than necessary. I have learned a great many terms of endearment and can carry on a very limited conversation in the Russian language.

In truth, I would be much better off taking Marya as my wife than Penelope, but I am mad about Penelope and my thoughts are of her even when I hold Marya. Would it be wrong to wed my own aunt? Could I even trust her? I know it would disturb many people, but there is something wonderfully compelling about the idea.

My rest was broken when, this morning, Mr. Tatum tapped on my door and announced that Dr. Bell requested my presence. I had scarcely seen him since my return, and as my own troubles faded, I was again worried for his health and deeply distressed about his proclivity for cocaine.

Fortunately, my concerns evaporated. He was erect, attired in a handsome dressing gown, and polishing off an omelet, a large beefsteak, and toast with marmalade. His cheeks were pink and he had gained weight. He leaned back, lit up his large, curved pipe and breathed out a wreath of fragrant smoke.

“Doyle, help yourself to coffee. There is another omelet and enough bacon for a whole battalion.”

I thanked him and was soon stuffing my face with delicious vittles. “Sir, you seem to have recovered your usual robust health.”

“Aye,” Dr. Bell blew a large smoke ring. “I have determined the proper dose of cocaine to avoid unpleasant side effects. It is a capital nerve tonic. A seven percent solution of cocaine is beneficial.”

It would be better if he had given up the drug but he seemed to be his old self. I said no more on the subject.

Bell delicately patted his lips with a damask napkin. “If you’d be so kind

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